


If You Gotta Go, Go Now

by Tricksterfaerie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, POV Dean Winchester, Stanford Era, Wincest if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricksterfaerie/pseuds/Tricksterfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night Sam left for good was the worst night of Dean’s life</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Gotta Go, Go Now

The night Sam left for good (with only a backpack and two hundred bucks cash in his back pocket) was the worst night of Dean’s life. 

Dean had wanted to promise Sam that he would do better. He’d be a better brother if he just. Please. Stayed. He’d do anything Sam asked him to. Dean had wanted to tell his father he’d gone too far and was pushing Sam away and to _shut the hell up._   _Please_.

His entire world was unraveling and Dean couldn’t bring himself to stop it. He’d given up trying.  He’d been putting himself between Sam and John since Sam was old enough to say the word  _No._ He was sick of both of them and his muscles had actually ached from the strain of not throwing punches out of sheer frustration.

Instead, Dean had forced himself to lean against the wall in the corner of the living room and let his father and brother scream at each other one last time (a lamp had been overturned when Sam had refused to take a gun).

Dean had come close to breaking John’s nose when he’d heard him tell Sam never to come back. He’d gotten as far as pushing himself off the wall and uncrossing his arms before he froze, before he actually took a swing at his father, his brain catching up to the natural instinct of his body.  Sam had just shook his head, turned and walked out. He didn’t slam the door. He didn’t curse them. He just went.

Before John was even finished bellowing about ingratitude and obligation and loyalty and “ _Why can’t that boy just listen to me for once in his goddamned life?_ ” Dean had hurried out after his brother.

For awhile they had just stood, silently, in the middle of the street while Sam waited for the cab that would take him to the bus station (and then two buses and a one hour layover at four in the morning). _What happened to you and me against the world Sam?_  Dean had thought but still couldn’t make himself say it out loud. 

Sam had been smiling when he’d finally turned his head to his brother and suddenly Dean had wanted to hit him too. He felt a sharp, hollow, white-hot pain spreading from somewhere vaguely in the middle of his chest and Dean had thought for a moment that maybe it was what dying felt like because it had hurt worse than that time he was slashed up on a hunt and had to let John give him twenty-five stitches.

Looking back over his shoulder at the house and then back at his brother, Dean had been overcome with a sudden memory of heat and smoke; running with a tiny Sam in his arms crying loudly against Dean’s own tiny shoulder. Dean remembered later that same night lying with his arms curled around a sleeping Sam on a lumpy bed on the first motel bed he’d ever slept on paid for with vouchers from the a Douglas County Red Cross while John sat in a chair nearby crying quietly.

Dean had been pulled from his memories by the sound of present time Sam talking to him excitedly, still smiling. Dean had tried to listen to the sound of his brother’s voice, to focus on the words instead of the uncomfortable numbness spreading through his body. He had flexed his fingers and rolled his head trying to soothe the muscles in his neck.  _If he wasn’t dying he was at least having a panic attack._  Dean had decided. He’d cleared his throat loudly and took a few deep breaths, scrabbling his hands over his face and through his hair and turned back to Sam with a wicked grin.

“So, college girls, huh Sammy? It’ll be the time of your life man, I’m a little jealous.” The words had struck an unexpected nerve and Dean had felt his throat go dry has he had clapped Sam on the back forcing out a harsh laugh that Sam had echoed, “ _California, c_ college girls.” Dean added. 

“You better come visit man.” Sam had said.

“Oh, you bet your ass,” Dean answered, the lie bitter on his tongue. “You’re gonna need a wingman.”  They’d kept up the charade, keeping it light. Dean asking questions like  _Do you think they really have toga parties?_  and  _how far did you say Palo Alto was from the beach?_

“Oh, hey. I almost forgot. I got you something.” Dean had said reaching into his back pocket and handed Sam an unopened deck of cards, “You teach those preppy frat boys a thing or two.” Sam smiled and zipped the deck into the front pouch of his backpack as the lights of the taxi came around the curve of the road. 

“Well,” Sam had said, “I guess this is good-bye, for now.”

Dean had felt the panic rising again but he’d just punched Sam gently on the shoulder. Sam had caught Dean’s wrist then and pulled him into a quick hug, thumping him on the back. “You be safe okay.” He’d said softly into Dean’s shoulder. 

“Always.” Dean had answered full of false bravado, pulling back and looking Sam in the eyes with an urgent need to give Sam the reassurance that his father and brother were going to be okay without him. That he shouldn’t worry that maybe they’d be killed by something evil and ugly and Sam wouldn’t be there, would have no way of even knowing.

The taxi had stopped in front of them and Sam opened the back door tossed his back pack onto the seat and turned back to Dean. ”Go on, get outta here.” Dean had said, waving him away and Sam had laughed again and Dean had found himself trying to memorize the sound.

“I’ll call you when I get there.” Sam had said sliding into the back of the car and Dean nodded. Sam nodded too, almost to himself, before he’d pulled the door closed.  Sam waved through the back window as the car pulled away and Dean had waved back, watched until it turned the corner and Sam was finally gone, for good. 

Dean had made it to the dirt driveway before he doubled over. Landing softly on his knees he’d puked onto the grass until his body was wracked with dry heaves.  When they’d finally subsided Dean had stood up, wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve and went back into the house.  


End file.
